


Joint Protection

by Anathema Device (notowned)



Series: Every man for ourselves [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, general sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7433812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notowned/pseuds/Anathema%20Device
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Athos and d'Artganan reconnect, their worried friends watch with relief.</p><p>The smallest reference to the crossover which started the series, but now it's solidly Muskeeters only, all the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joint Protection

“Thank God,” Aramis breathed.

He let his food preparation fall by the wayside as he looked out through the windows to his friends in the garden. He wasn’t sure how long it would take Athos to get to the point where he could accept as well as give the solace d’Artagnan needed. He had slept longer last night than on any of the previous week. Two weeks, Aramis would have bet. But this morning he’d been a bundle of nervous energy until Constance had brought their youngest home.

When it looked as if the two in the garden were not hurrying through the conversation they needed to have, Aramis resumed making their lunch, taking care to make it light and flavoursome for their invalid, but robust enough for Porthos’s appetite. To prepare food for his friends was a grace and a gift. It centred him, this act of care, allowing him to think about them and what they wanted, bringing the answer from inside his heart. Mama had been the same, of course. When she could do nothing else for the rest of them, she could always cook. Every meal was an act of love for her, and so it was for Aramis.

Porthos returned half an hour later, sweaty, beautiful. Aramis kissed his cheek as he came through the kitchen on his way to shower. “Look,” Aramis said.

Porthos went over to the window for a better view. “Thank fuck for that. Now if Athos could just stop pretending the kid has a massive case of hero worship instead of being head over heels for him....”

“They need to take it slow, my love. D’Artagnan has a lot to handle right now. So has he.”

Which ‘he’ didn’t need to be said. Aramis bore no one hate, but he truly wished Athos’s brother had managed to kill Athos’s wife rather than let her get away with destroying two lives as she had. Had she simply divorced the man, and run off to be a criminal, Athos would have healed by now, and seen what was obvious even to the coldest heart, that their young team member loved him dearly. Instead, the scar on the wound never formed, being torn open over and over with every report of Milady, every sighting. And then this last insult.

No, maybe he _did_ hate someone. The cardinal should be flogged up and down the Champs-Élysées for putting their team on this bloody mission. Pure and utter sadism, that was all it had been.

Porthos returned and pinched a cherry tomato from the salad in preparation. “You know Constance told Monsieur Q that d’Artagnan was straight?”

Aramis laughed in surprise. “What? Why would she do that?”

“Because she didn’t like Bond, or the way he looked at our boy. She figured Q would tell Bond and keep his sticky fingers off him.”

“I could kiss that woman.”

“You do. We all do. You don’t think Athos believes that, do you? I mean, he’s not stupid.”

“No, he’s not. He’s being wilfully blind because he doesn’t want to handle the consequences. To be fair to him, it could be a problem. What if Treville thought he was protecting d’Artagnan on missions? Shielding him?”

“He shields all of us. We all shield each other.”

“Exactly. But perceptions might change if the two ever actually said it out loud.”

“He sleeps with us and doesn’t spare us any more than any one else.”

“I know. It’s only a problem in his head. He’ll sort it out. It just has to take its place in the queue of all the other fucking messes he has to deal with.”

“Ooh, you did a swear.”

“I did. You corrupted me.”

Porthos slung his arm around Aramis’s waist. “And I’m gonna do it again, given half a chance.”

“After lunch, maybe. I think Athos might not be in our bed for a while.”

“Up to him. Maybe we’ll make it a foursome one night, eh?”

“You’re greedy and immoral and I like how you think.”

Porthos grinned and kissed him. “I know _that_ , love.”

“Now shower, and then you can take them some cold drinks.”

“I don’t want to disturb them. They look so pretty together.”

“They’ve been like that for nearly an hour. D’Artagnan’s poor ribs.”

Porthos poked him in his own ribs. “You know, I don’t think he’s even feeling them right now.”

Perhaps not, Aramis thought. “Still, a little light refreshment would give them a break.”

“You just want to check on them, don’t you?”

“You know me too well.”

“Made it my life’s work, haven’t I?” Porthos smiled at him, all the love this big, tough, generous man could give shining in his gorgeous brown eyes. “I could have a PhD in Aramis by now.”

“Never have I been so grateful to be an objection of reflection.” Aramis kissed him on the lips. “Now, love of my life, flower of my soul, will you please wash all this sweat off? I enjoy you dirty but only when I’ve had the pleasure of getting you that way.”

“Promises, promises.” Porthos sauntered off, giving Aramis a nice view of small shorts over that fabulous backside.

He shook his head and went back to the salad. But perhaps slicing up the cucumber could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> And...still not done with this series, sorry :)
> 
> All comments, criticisms and corrections gratefully requested!


End file.
